


The Morning After

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>Wanting</i>. The balance of power begins to shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

She wakes with her head in a fog, a dull headache behind her eyes, and it would be so sweet to bury her head underneath the covers and shut out the world for the remainder of the day. But she is the Lady of the Vale, and even in isolation the castle has need of her graceful smiles and gentle commands.

Still, she takes her time preparing herself, lingering at her tasks, watching the rising sun inch across the rushes. She tells herself that the knot in her stomach is from the drink and it’s partially true, but when she thinks of fetching tea to sooth it she feels her chest clench.

\----

They break their fast alone, in a state of near silence so oppressive that each scrap of her spoon against her bowl causes her head to throb. Eventually she abandons the bland porridge and grips her tea with both hands, inhaling the warm steam and watching Petyr carefully.

His dark-rimmed eyes refuse to meet hers. Usually he has a way of fixing her in place with his gaze; she can often feel it whenever her back is turned, and it is liable to send shivers down her spine. As she watches him feign an interest in his food, she thinks how odd it is to be the alert one, for once.

She knows the courteous thing would be to not take advantage of this opportunity. “Did you sleep well?”

The words seem to take on a special chill in the air, and Petyr regards her for a long moment before favoring her with a slight smirk. “Not exactly, no.” He holds her gaze for a long moment, and when he breaks it she notices him swallow, hard. “Perhaps it’s not wise to let you drink so much, Alayne.”

Something in the statement annoys her, but she can’t pinpoint exactly why at the moment. She straightens her back in an effort to calm herself, but there is still too long of a gap before she can return his earlier smirk. “Perhaps,” she whispers, voice steady. She takes a long sip of tea and starts to plan; she knows she can’t sit here for much longer. “My head is still a mess. May I take my leave?”

Petyr does a good job at hiding his relief, but she can see it clearly in the way he leans back. “Of course.” He seems to want to say more but the words get caught, until she passes by his chair and he catches her wrist.

She swears her heart stops at the touch and when she looks at him she sees the young boy she saw last night, all elegance lost. His eyes remain dark but somehow sad, and she instinctively moves a bit closer.

“I think our agreement warrants a kiss,” he says softly, and she had to have expected this. She feels a familiar shiver, but on top of it there is something else that had never passed through her before. He looks desperate and the edge of her mouth twitches with an unusual thrill.

“Of course,” she says, the repeated phrase calmer from her lips. With the words still on them she leans in and lets him taste, holding the kiss a bit longer than is proper, taking stock of his tense muscles as he holds back. When he pulls away, almost violently, she lets her lips run along his cheek and savors the small shudder than runs through him.

She leaves the room without a glance, glad that her dress hides her unsteady feet.


End file.
